


Long Distance Call

by sceptick



Category: Glee
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-10
Updated: 2013-01-10
Packaged: 2017-11-25 13:31:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/639381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sceptick/pseuds/sceptick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Feeling down after quitting Glee, Mercedes gets a little pick-me-up from an old friend. (Set post-3x03.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long Distance Call

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [**elva_barr**](http://elva-barr.livejournal.com/) for the beta ♥ Also gotta thank [](http://ashmole.livejournal.com/) **ashmole**  for the encouragement and concrit. Couldn't have done it without you guys!
> 
> Set post 3x03, and written and posted to lj in October 2011 (I'm doing a massive cross-post right now, sorry). I don't own Glee. And let the record show that Mercedes' feelings about Rachel don't reflect my own-- I love them both rather a lot.

 

When she got home, the place was empty. No dad, no mom, no brother. Just Mercedes Jones and a big, lonely house, and her lower lip quivered at the thought of how fitting that was.

 

There was a note on the kitchen table that said, _“Your brother’s soccer game is this evening. Will be out late b/c taking him out to dinner afterwards. Love, Mom and Dad.”_ She read it through twice, then crumpled  
it up into a ball and dropped it back onto the table.

 

She would have liked to see Tommy’s game, but she probably would’ve brought the mood down or something. It was probably best for everyone she wasn’t there. Best for Tommy, best for her parents, best for Rachel...

 

Mercedes trudged up the stairs to her room, wiping her eyes. It had taken her one week to ruin everything. One week to lose everything. _It’s not my fault,_ she told herself, but that nagging little voice in the back of her head replied, _everyone else thinks it is. Your friends. Are they all wrong?_ Mercedes slammed her bedroom door closed as loud as she could, and it echoed in the room. It didn’t manage to drown out that damn voice, though.

 

Her friends hated her. Her teachers didn’t care. And always, always, it came down to the fact that she wasn’t good enough. Even when she was the best, she wasn’t good enough. What had she done that was so wrong? When she sat by and waited for good things to come to her, it was her fault when they didn’t. When she chased what she wanted, it was her fault when the others got pushed out of her way. What kind of sense did that make? Never mind that Rachel did it every day. Never mind that every damn solo was hers with one look from those big pretty eyes.

 

Rachel was supposed to be her friend.

 

Mercedes collapsed down onto her bed without bothering to take off her shoes. It didn’t seem worth the effort. She rolled over onto her side, stared at the wall. She’d repainted it over the summer, a bright blue that practically shone when the sun came up and glared through her window in the morning. Now, her eyes stung, and everything blurred away as she sniffed, and a few tears rolled down across her nose. She couldn’t bring herself to wipe them away, so they dripped off to soak into her sheets.

 

There was a muffled beep, and then another. She fumbled wearily at the front pocket of her jeans. When she pulled out her cell, its screen was glowing brightly, and it said, _“New Message: Shane.”_

 

She thought about opening it but decided not to, and she placed it on her bedside table. Shane was great, really, but he just – no. He’d tell her to take it to the administration. He’d want her to fight for herself, when right now, she could barely muscle up the determination to answer her phone. He’d tell her that she deserved everything, that she was better than any of them, that it was lonely at the top and this was practice for her days of glory in the far-off future.

 

That was all well and good, but it sure as hell wouldn’t make her feel any better about being alone and friendless on a Wednesday afternoon.  
She’d bet good money that Kurt and Rachel and them were up in the auditorium _right now_ , singing, prepping for Sectionals. And she wasn’t with them.

 

Her hands clenched tightly into her pillow.

 

Her phone beeped again, and she scowled at it. Couldn’t the damn thing just be quiet? She picked it up, intent on shoving it under a pillow or something, when the name on the screen caught her eye.

 

 

_“New Message: Sam.”_

 

 

Her breath left her in a rush as she stared at the screen. God, it’d been ages since she’d – but she’d decided she wouldn’t. A clean break, that’s what she’d needed. He’d left, and she’d moved on, and that’s all there was to it.

 

She opened the message anyway.

 

 

_hey cedes i havent herd from u just thought id say hi :) i miss u_

 

 

Mercedes sat up and wiped her eyes. God, it’d been so long. She chewed on her fingernail. She really shouldn’t, she _knew_ she shouldn’t, but damn if she didn’t want to. Just this once. They’d broken up, so it’d just be a friend calling a friend. She didn’t even need to tell him what was going on; she could just listen to his voice for a while. She’d missed him, too.

 

She hesitated, and her eyes strayed to the alarm clock on her bedside table. It was 4:03. Mr Schue would probably have just called for a short break, and the others would be sitting on the edge of the stage, sipping water and gossiping about the day. Maybe they’d talk about her.

 

Aw, hell, she thought. She pressed the call button.

 

The line was picked up immediately. “Mercedes?”

 

For a moment she couldn’t say anything. She just stared at the wall with glassy eyes, holding the phone to her ear. He sounded so pleased, so excited, so friendly. Her eyes stung, but she sucked in a deep breath and stuttered, “H—hi, Sam.”

 

She could practically hear his smile when he said, “Mercedes, hey!”

 

Be cool, she thought. Stay calm. Act casual. One nice, easy conversation with an old friend, and she’d be ready to face the world again. She pulled out a shaky smile and said, “Hey yourself. How’re things?”

 

“Good! They’re good. I, uh, you know. I’m fitting in. Found some cool people, not as cool as you guys, but still.”

 

“That’s good,” she managed. “That’s real good. You still singing?”

 

“There’s no Glee club here, so that sucks, but my sister’s started watching a lot of morning cartoons and the theme songs are pretty catchy. I’ve been singing along to them,” he said. She thought of the way he’d smiled when he sang ‘Don’t Stop’, or, hell, when he’d sung all that Bieber stuff. Especially when he’d sung all that Bieber stuff. What a _dork_. Her smile stretched as she remembered, and it stretched until it wobbled and broke, and more tears sprung to her eyes and slipped down.

 

“Mercedes?” he asked, and although there was no way he could know what was going on in her head, he sounded so damn concerned. Her breath hitched, then came out in a sob.

 

“Mercedes, hey, Mercedes – ” and now he sounded outright panicked. She wanted to laugh at him for not knowing what to do with a crying girl, because how much of a nerd stereotype could he _be_ , but she didn’t have the breath for it. All she could do was cry. Her face had to be the biggest, hottest mess in the history of big hot messes.

 

Words tripping over his tongue and coming out in a garbled rush, he said, “It’s okay, whatever it is, it’s gonna be okay, alright, just talk to me, Mercedes, it’s okay –“

 

“It’s not okay, Sam,” she said into the phone, screwing her eyes shut. “I don’t think it’s ever gonna be okay again.”

 

There was the faint creak of bedsprings from his side of the line, and then he said, “Just – tell me what happened. Or don’t, if you’d rather not, I mean, you don’t have to.” He paused. There was a frustrated groan, and she could imagine him scratching his head, trying to figure out what the right thing to do was. Finally, he said, “Just, you know. If it’ll make you feel better, you can tell me what happened.”

 

“I just – ”she started, then she fell silent. She flopped back onto her bed and stared up at the ceiling. When she was little, she’d spelled out her name with glow-in-the-dark stars up there. They weren’t glowing anymore; maybe it was too bright out, or maybe they were just too old. For some reason, that set off a new round of tears. Sam waited for her to speak, and she could picture him shifting anxiously from side to side on his bed, an abandoned comic book lying at his side where he’d tossed it when she’d called. He felt so, so far away. She said, “I feel like a damn fool.”

 

“You’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met,” he said immediately.

 

“That’s sweet, coming from the boy who thinks Avatar is a ground-breaking social commentary,” she huffed.

 

“Hey! Don’t knock Cameron, Mercedes, the guy’s a genius. That movie was great and you know it,” he said, but he didn’t sound angry, just gently teasing.

 

“Whatever, blue boy,” she said, smiling despite herself.

 

She heard him laugh, then fall silent. She gathered her courage, and said, “I tried out for the musical. For Maria.”

 

“’The Sound of Music’? Is the musical as long as the movie?” he asked, and she giggled.

 

“No, silly. ‘West Side Story.’ Maria’s the female lead, and I –“ Mercedes stopped. The scene in Ms. Pillsbury’s office swam before her eyes. “I was good, Sam, I was so good. Best I’ve ever been.”

 

“And that’s saying something,” he said. He sounded so fond, so familiar. She kind of wanted to hit something.

 

“The part was mine. I knew it, Rachel knew it. Girl has a face like an open book, and I saw it clear as day. It was mine.”

 

“That’s awesome,” he said, but from the way he said it, she knew he could tell something else was coming.

 

“They double-cast me with Rachel. To make her feel better.”

 

He paused, then said, hesitantly, “That sucks, but -- Mercedes, you’re both super talented, you know? More talented than anyone in that school. They probably just wanted to showcase both of you.”

 

The tears that came this time were tears of anger, of that helpless kind of anger where everything’s gone wrong and there’s nothing you can do about it and no one understands it. She swallowed them back harshly, narrowing her eyes, and said roughly, “You don’t get it. You don’t get it, no one gets it. Whatever. It’s no big deal.”

 

“No, I’m sorry, Mercedes. It obviously is a big deal, if it’s rattled you like this. I shouldn’t have said that. You’re right, I don’t get it. Explain it to me so I do, help me understand,” he pleaded, and God, the hangdog look in his eyes right now must be the stuff of legends. If he were there with her, he’d be staring up at her beneath those ridiculous bangs, and she would cave in a heartbeat. So she took a deep breath and explained.

 

“She gets everything, Sam. Since day one, this has been the Rachel and Company show choir. Did you know, our first year, Mr Schue tried to give Tina a solo, and she pitched a fit until Tina crumbled. Mr Schue insisted that Tina take it, and I thought – I thought maybe it was a start, maybe he’d learn to stand up to her, but he didn’t, and every big competition solo went to her that whole year unless she decided to be gracious and give it to someone, like solos are her right, not something to be earned, and I never even get the chance – I just can’t anymore. I’ve had it up to here with Rachel freaking Berry getting every single freaking thing she wants.”

 

She was stumbling over words now, sobs sneaking their way into every sentence as she gripped the phone tighter and tighter with sweaty palms. “That was my moment, Sam. I’d finally, finally proven that I was better than her, that I could bring more to the table than she could, and  
they wouldn’t even give me that much.”

 

“Oh, Mercedes,” he said. His voice was just as hoarse as hers, and she shut her eyes, because he understood. Maybe he’d never felt like she did, or maybe he had, given the whole macho-man-stand-off thing he’d had going with Finn at one point, but whether he had or he hadn’t didn’t matter, because he was listening and he got it and he was sad with her. The rest of the words just came tumbling out.

 

“And, and, nothing’s working right, Sam, I swear to God everything’s wrong. I’m not in Glee anymore. I don’t know if I quit or if I was booted, it’s all a blur, but either way – I just felt so bad, so down all the time, like nothing I did was ever gonna be good enough, and eventually I just snapped and I yelled at Mr Schue and then – it was just, it was all over. And now I got nothing, Sam, nothing. Not Glee and not the musical and not Kurt. Nothing.”

 

“You’ve still got me,” he offered.

 

“Fat lot of good that’ll do me, you’re all the way out there and I’m still here in Nowhere, Ohio.”

 

“Leave you kids alone for ten minutes and Nowhere, Ohio falls into ruin, it seems,” he joked, and helpless laughter bubbled out of her.

 

“Don’t I know it, babe,” she replied through her giggles.

 

There was a pause, and she remembered abruptly that she was dating Shane. Shane. Sam was gone, and he wasn’t coming back.

 

“Mercedes,” he started, but she interrupted him, saying, “Sorry, Sam, I’ve gotta run. Thanks for listening.”

 

“Huh? Oh. Oh, okay,” he said, sounding disappointed. “Sure. Just – things’ll look up, Mercedes. Nothing can keep you down, right? Nothing and no one.”

 

“Right,” she said, trying and failing to keep a grin from crossing her face.

 

“Right, good,” he said. “So just hang in there, okay? They’ll come around. As far as I can tell, you’ve done nothing wrong. I mean, I may be a little biased, but – whatever, they’re your friends. Friendship is, well, it’s pretty magical, you know.”

 

“Sam Evans, have you been watching that My Little Pony crap?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.

 

“Give me Ponies or give me death, Zogwarg Queen,” he said, chuckling.

 

“You know I ain’t got a clue what you’re talking about, right?”

 

“I’ll send you a link.”

 

“Okay,” she said with a smile. She wiped at her face, but all that was left were dried tear tracks. She’d stopped crying ages ago. “Hey, Sam?”

 

“Yeah?” he said. His voice was hopeful, and her smile grew even as she tried to repress it. Damn it, she was with Shane now. Still, Sam’d been wonderful today, so –

 

“Thanks,” she said. “For listening. I really appreciate it.”

 

“Anytime,” he promised. “I mean it, Mercedes, any time you want to talk, I’m here. You’ve got me.”

 

I know, she thought, I know I do.

 

She said, “Okay then. Talk to you later, blue boy.”

 

“Bye, Mercedes,” he said, but he didn’t hang up. She waited a few seconds before reluctantly disconnecting. She stared up, up at the dull stars stuck onto her blue ceiling, spelling out her name. She’d make them shine again.

 


End file.
